


Music Cleanses the Soul

by ThatOneRegina



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Crying, Cuddling, M/M, Music, Spooning, Violinist Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, violin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 07:14:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14785899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatOneRegina/pseuds/ThatOneRegina
Summary: Cute little work where Simon and Baz are both stuck at Watford for Christmas break, so things are said, songs are played, cuddling is had.





	Music Cleanses the Soul

**Author's Note:**

> This work is in Baz's Point Of View
> 
> This is my first oneshot, which I originally posted on Tumblr, and is the first thing I'm posting on ao3, yay! I hope whoever is reading this enjoys it!

I don’t know how long I play before I realize that my muscles have relaxed even more, my breathing is slow and composed, and my mind is completely filled with Snow. It almost seems like I can actually feel him, his bright flames of magick rolling over me. I abruptly stop playing the love ballad I’d unknowingly chosen and march over to the door. I stand next to it for a second, violin still in hand, and fix my hair. Then I yank the door open, staring into Snow’s gapping face, just as I expected.  
“Baz! What, what are you doing here?” Snow stammers, his full checks turning bright pink. I try not to smile at the sight.  
“This is my room too, Snow. Where else would I be? I’m not going to sleep on the football pitch.”  
“Oh,” he replies, mouth still hanging open, “I just thought you’d be at home. It’s Christmas break.”  
“And?” I ask, raising an eyebrow and walking away from him, sitting cross legged on my bed, pretending to fix something on my violin. Snow closes the door and stands in front of me, right next to my music stand.  
His face is composed now, shifted back to his suspicious, squinty eyed expression. The only one I see other than a glare when he knows I’m watching him.  
“I just assumed you had a family plan of torturing innocent children and kittens,” Snow says, crossing his arms. I roll my eyes.  
“Oh, we wouldn’t dare harm kittens, Snow. That’s more of a Halloween thing.”  
He just glares at me, unamused. I sigh, deciding to be the one to ask.  
“Snow, why are you here?”  
“Well, Baz, this is my room, too, right?” I resist the urge to roll my eyes again.  
“Seriously, Snow.”  
He looks at his feet, then up at my face again. I can’t read his expression. He must be really trying to hide what he’s thinking, I can usually tell the second I look into his eyes. But right now they’re blank.  
“You first, Baz.”  
I want to argue again, but think better of it. Snow’s acting way too stubborn right now for me to get anywhere.  
“Fine, I’ll tell you, but if you repeat this to another living soul, I will deny it, and this time when I feed you to a fucking chimera, I won’t fail.” I say, surprising myself. I don’t know when I decided to tell him the truth. Snow seems surprised, too. He backs over to his bed so that he’s sitting on the edge, across from me. His eyes are wide, curious. Good. I hated seeing them look empty and cold. It reminds me too much of a mirror.  
“It’s not a long story, okay? It’s just stupid and it would be bad if a lot of people knew. My family wants to keep quiet about it.”  
I close my eyes and clench my fists, preparing myself. I hate thinking about this. It always puts me in a bitter mood.  
“My father kicked me out. Told me that after I’m done at Watford I’m done with him, too. He said I could come home for the holidays still, but to hell with that. If he’s done with me, I’m done with him.” I relax my hands, resting them on my knees, but keep my eyes closed. I can’t believe I just told Snow. I think I just wanted to get it out. Dev and Niall already know, but they ignore it. That’s what we do. If there’s a problem like this we all silently agree to ignore it. But I don’t want to ignore this. I want to get mad, to allow myself to feel something. And I know Snow won’t let this go. Snow will hold it over my head, torture me with it, force me to get angry about it.  
“But, why-”  
I snap my eyes open, half-heartedly glaring at Snow.  
“Why they kicked me out doesn’t matter, Snow.” I shake my head, getting hotter and hotter, starting to burn, “No, you know what, it does, it does matter, and it really fucking sucks, too, but there’s nothing we can do about it, so I’m not explaining.” And I defuse, just like that.  
I put my face in my hands, trying to fully calm down. I didn't mean to explode. Outbursts like that from either person are most of the reason Snow and I fight all the time. Sometimes the fire mingles with the smoke and I can’t tell whether I’m choking or burning, or maybe flying, riding the flames and filling my lungs with the air and water that I need to live. Snow’s too fucking confusing to me. So I explode. Or push him down the stairs. Whichever comes first.  
“What about you, Snow? Why aren’t you spending the holiday baking heart shaped cookies and singing merry little carols with Wellbelove?”  
I look up when he hesitates, about to yell at him for refusing to talk, but stop when I see his face. He looks pained. At first I think it must be because of why he’s at Watford, but he’s staring into my eyes and I recognize the look immediately. If I was anyone else I’d think it was pity, but I know Snow too much for that. It’s more like empathy. He stands, still staring at me.  
“Baz, you-”  
“Snow, stop, just-”  
“Baz.”  
I freeze, the intensity in his voice causing me to forget to keep him from talking anymore. I can’t focus on anything other than keeping myself from jumping him right then and there. To kiss him, punch him, I don’t know.  
“Simon, please. I don’t want to talk about it. Please.” I guess I didn’t tell him to get mad about it. I just wanted him to know.  
Snow stares at me a few seconds more, then walks over and sits next to me on my bed. I have the urge to yell at him but he’s sitting so close that my mind’s too foggy to pretend to be mad about it. I suspect him to push for more details because he’s Snow and he’s thick and so fucking stubborn, but for once he drops it. He’s probably just going to ask again later, but for now he ignores it.  
“Agatha and I broke up. That’s why I’m not with her. She still invited me to stay, at least for Christmas dinner, but I thought it’d be too weird. So, I’m spending Christmas at Watford.”  
“What about Bunce? Why don’t you stay with her?”  
“I’m not allowed. Her mum doesn’t want me around too long. Something with her and the Mage. There’s something you two have in common. Hating me because of the Mage.”  
I tense, thinking that was a dig, but Snow’s smirking. A joke. It was a joke.  
“So we’re joking now, Snow,” I ask, displaying a smirk to match his, raising an eyebrow.  
“Yeah, yeah we are,” he giggles, attempting to copy me with the eyebrow raise and completely failing. His mouth gets all distorted, like he’s about to drink out of a straw, and both his eyebrows are wiggling up and down as he tries.  
“Snow, just stop,” I say, laughing, “ You look like a constipated squirrel.” He snorts, covering his mouth, laughing right along with me. Our laughter starts to die down and we end up staring at each other again. He’s so beautiful. His face gets an awed kind of expression. Then he glances down, staring at the instrument in my lap.  
“I forgot that you play the violin. You always practiced anywhere but in our room. Why?”  
“Why what?” I ask, looking at his face, hoping he doesn’t catch me, but also wishing I could see his eyes. I can always tell what Snow is thinking through his eyes. He tries to hide it, but all his feelings are so transparent.  
“Why do you play? Why never in our room?” He asks, looking up at me and leaning forward, resting his arms on his knees.  
I take a deep breath, stalling as try to figure out what he’s thinking. His eyes aren’t giving anything away. He’s really good at hiding today.  
“It’s the same answer for both, I guess. I…,” I hesitate, wondering if I should tell him or not. I’ve already let him in more than I ever imagined I would have. But it’s Snow. Snow, who’s so animated and alive that you can practically read his mind by staring into his brilliant, blue eyes. Snow, who right now looks blank and gone, who’s apparently gotten all too well at hiding what he feels. Snow, who may give away just a little bit of emotion if I only open up to him a little more. I stare down at my shoes.  
“I’ve always loved to play. My mother gave me this violin for my birthday as a child. She said a boy should learn to play an instrument, that it was more important than almost anything else. She claimed that the violin taught grace because you had to learn to hold it and not fall over. It taught you how to be gentle, always being precise in how you play and treat it, never letting it be harmed or broken.”  
I swallow, unable to stop now. I look up at Snow to find him staring at me. I don’t let myself think about what I see there, and instead continue.  
“The most important lesson she said it’d teach me was how to love.” I see Snow tense out of the corner of my eye; I almost feel it. “Having it with me at all times, hating the practices but loving the performances, that’d make me love it. She was right about that one. I do love this violin. I love how stubborn it is, strings always pushing back as I press against them again and again. How it’s always there in the room, whether I want to destroy it or play it, it’s always there.” Snow’s started breathing again, but faster. I get the urge to touch his chest, to feel just how fast his insane, stubborn little heart is beating.  
“That’s not why I play though. I play because the music consumes me. I’m not just playing the strings, playing with the fire; I am the fire. I can burn and smoke and fall apart, but then burst from the ashes like a phoenix, unharmed, more alive and awake than ever.”  
I’m still staring at Snow, but now I let myself register what’s on his face, in his eyes. His eyes are burning like the fire from my music, but I still can’t tell what he’s thinking.  
“It’s always fire with you, Baz,” Snow starts, trying to hide a small smile. “You should show me some of it.”  
“What?” I ask, shaking my head.  
“Play something. Right now. There’s only you and I at the school for the holiday, so we might as well get along.”  
I continue to shake my head. This is a position I never thought I’d be in. Snow wanting to hear my music.  
“Please, Baz. Just one song.” Snow pouts, sticking out his lower lip and looking up at me through his lashes.  
“Fine.” I agree, setting everything up.  
“Where are your papers? What song are you playing?” Snow asks. I ignore him and just start to play the same ballad from earlier. Everything else starts to melt away, until it’s just the music, Snow, and I, all trapped in a tiny corner in my mind.  
I’m almost finished with the song when I feel two broad hands on my shoulders, lightly shaking them.  
“Baz, are you okay? Baz,” Snow shouts frantically. I stop playing, finally fully registering the world around me. I set my violin on my bed next to me, the opposite side Snow is on, because he’s sitting on his knees, right next to me, still staring at my face, wide eyed. That’s when I realize that I’d started crying. No wonder Snow freaked out. I’m surprised he hasn’t ran straight out the door yet.  
Once I realize I’m crying it’s impossible to stop. I got too lost, too trapped in the music. I start crying more intensely now, silent tears turning into violent sobs. It’s been so long since I’ve cried. I never let myself because I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to stop.  
Snow’s hands slide down my arms, wrapping around my waist, his mouth right next to my ear, whispering.  
“It’s okay,” he says, “It’s okay. You’re fine, Baz. You’re fine.”  
He pulls us down, guiding me to lay down on my side as he lays down beside me. He cradles me, big spoons, whatever the hell you want to call it, stroking my hair as I try to calm down, try to stop crying. It only works enough to let me get quieter, the silent tears returning.  
“I’m right here, Baz. I’m not leaving. I’m going to stay with you until you’re happy, even if it takes forever. Just let it out, you’re okay. I’ll be with you until you’re better, and then I’ll stay right by your side for a long, long time after.”  
I have so many questions, but Simon’s face is in my hair and he smells like scones and the schools cheap soap, and this whole day has taken so much out of me.  
I close my eyes, which have stopped crying, and listen to Simon’s breathing, matching my own to his. I lay there, unreasonably happy, drifting off to sleep in Simon Snow’s arms.


End file.
